A view from the sky tram in Jasper on a family holiday
Recently I featured “A Tribute to Floyd; A Fallen Hero” in my September blog. It was one hundred years since he was born. He died in Italy at age twenty-five. It was my intent to remember other family members and honor them in a blog on Remembrance Day.
One of these was mentioned in the blog, Floyd’s younger brother, Franklin. I understand that Franklin was anxious to serve and volunteered. Family members say that when he came home, he told how awful the war was. Gayle Swaney was another cousin who also went to war. He was a son of my dad’s older sister. He was a little older than Floyd and Franklin. He served as a Flight Engineer in the 45 Group, Royal Air Force Transport Command during the Second World War. The war in Europe had ended, but hostilities raged on in the Asian sector. Gayle was commissioned to carry some dignitaries to a meeting. They never made it. He died with them on 04 July 1945 when contact was lost with his plane over the ocean. At least that is how I understand it. He was thirty-eight and left behind a wife and two young children. I knew that Floyd and Franklin had an older brother who remained in the states when his dad, Uncle Nate immigrated to Canada. A few days ago when I was preparing to write this, it occurred to me that maybe he had served in the war as well. To my surprise, the next day I got an email from Family Search saying that a relative of mine was a war veteran. How is that for timing? It turned out to be LeRoy, their older brother. LeRoy was born in 1900. I found it interesting to read about him and discover he took trumpet lessons at age thirteen and played in his first band performance at age sixteen. Although the brothers were raised in different countries, with a significant age difference – nineteen years – the love of music came through as all three of them learned instruments and played in a band. He apparently began his service in May of 1942, serving in the 532 Brigade Amphibian Engineer Corp. He had just been married on April first of that year. He was forty-two. I doubt he was anxious to leave. War is never convenient. He spent some of his time serving in Australia. When he died of old age in 1984, he was buried with military rites. These are just a few to mention, but I am sure we all have people in our families who were once touched and maybe still are by the horror of wars. We have much for which to be grateful as we remember and focus on their sacrifice. We appreciate those who served more currently and those who are still serving. Freedom never comes free. We owe a debt of gratitude. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all.
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